


Late Night

by MermaidMarie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 08:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMarie/pseuds/MermaidMarie
Summary: Prompt on Tumblr: things you said at 1 amIn which Eliot and Julia reminisce together.





	Late Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acollectionofdaydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acollectionofdaydreams/gifts).



> Thank you to folie-a-hayley on tumblr for this prompt!! I am sad now!  
> (sorry it's canon compliant, I didn't mean for that to happen)

“Okay, so he was just _freaking_ out right? Like—just, fucking picture him in an ill-fitting suit, with a _stepped-on_ corsage—”

“Oh my God—”

Stretched out on the floor, Eliot was already laughing. Julia was up on the bed, cross-legged.

She handed Eliot the cigarette when he reached for it.

“I cannot stress enough that he spent, like, _way_ too much fucking money on this stupid corsage. It was, like, a fucking orchid—it was _so_ ugly, El, you have no idea. God, I wish I had a picture.” Julia shook her head, snickering at the memory. “We had half an hour before we were supposed to leave, alright? James was going to pick us up first, and then we were all going to grab Hannah before heading back to the school.”

Eliot propped himself up on his elbows, taking another drag of the cigarette before handing it back to Julia. “Oh, can I guess what his solution was?”

“Please,” Julia said, grinning.

“Something _tragically_ romantic yet wholly misguided, right? Like. I’m just picturing him trying to make a corsage out of origami flowers, but it’s _him,_ so the origami flowers are even _worse_ than the crushed orchid.” Eliot scoffed, rolling his eyes at the mere thought. “Am I warm?”

Julia burst out laughing, doubling over a little. She nearly dropped the cigarette on her quilt.

“You are _damn_ close, Waugh.” She shook her head. “Tragically romantic for sure—he thought he could, like, go pick wildflowers in the backyard or something, and that would work? So he was like, trying to fucking superglue forget-me-nots and daisies and dandelions to the elastic band—”

“Oh my _God—”_

“Eliot. Eliot, it looked _so_ bad. You have _no_ idea.”

“That sounds _horrific.”_

“The worst part was how _hard_ he was trying, you know?” Julia shook her head again, her cheeks red with how much she was grinning. “I mean, he was _really_ trying.”

“The _poor_ boy.” Eliot could picture it all so clearly. High school-aged Quentin, trying _desperately_ to fix a relatively minor problem, going about it all wrong, running his hands anxiously through his hair as he rambled—

Fuck, it was such a clear image.

“So anyway, the glue didn’t dry in time—fucking _obviously,_ God, he’s such a disaster—and so the flowers kept like, almost falling off or shifting around right? So he just—he _staples_ them.”

“Of course he did.” Eliot grinned. “What, pray tell, did the girl say?”

Julia laughed. “Oh, Q got _damn_ lucky, because Hannah thought it was _adorable._ I mean, the girl was _into_ him, she thought it was so _endearing_. He could’ve done anything and she would’ve been staring at him with fucking heart-eyes all night just for trying, I swear.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Of course. Because it was _him.”_

“Yeah, and he had, like, no fucking clue that she had such a crush on him, so I think he thought he did like—an okay job with that fucking corsage.”

“Right,” Eliot scoffed. He pushed himself up, leaning against the bed to get the cigarette again. “That boy never had any idea when people were enamored with him. Flew right over his dumb, adorable head.”

“I’d try to tell him when people had crushes on him, and he’d just stare at me wide-eyed, like he didn’t even understand what I was saying—” Julia said. “Meanwhile, he had a crush on someone, and the whole _world_ would know, and he’d try _so hard.”_

“Nothing if not determined and a hopeless romantic, our Quentin,” Eliot said. “And he simply couldn’t see the effect it could have on people.”

“He was so clueless sometimes,” Julia replied, the laughter fading from her voice.

Eliot bit his lip a little. The mood shifted, and a silence settled between them for a few moments.

Because yes, right. That was it. 

_Was._ He _was._

Which was why Eliot and Julia were here, at one in the fucking morning, hiding out in the farthest bedroom of Kady’s apartment. Why they were hanging out like _they_ were old friends, when really, they barely knew each other. Why they were avoiding everyone else and telling each other the stories about Quentin that they didn’t already know.

Because there would never be any new memories made, so all they could do was cling to the stories.

“He was clueless,” Eliot agreed, his voice quieter. “But—well. You knew him better than anyone. Do you think he knew?”

“What you felt, you mean?” Julia glanced down at him, a bare smile. “I think you knew him better than I did, Eliot.”

Eliot looked up at her. “So he told you?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think he told me _all_ of it. But he told me enough.”

He nodded, casting his eyes to the floor in front of him.

“He did know, by the way. He knew you loved him.” Julia’s voice was soft and kind. Something close to warm.

“I appreciate you saying that,” Eliot said.

He did. Really. It was nice to hear. He wasn’t quite sure he believed it, but at a certain point, what did it matter? It was all over and done anyway. He could let himself be comforted by empty sentiments or soft thoughts, because it wasn’t like he had anything else he could do.

He’d apologize if he could. He’d tell the truth to the person who deserved it if he could.

He’d make sure Quentin knew, if he had the chance. He would give anything to make it right between them. If only there were any moments left.

“He did,” Julia said. “I know he did.”

Eliot glanced up at her, trying to smile.

It didn’t matter. Whatever he knew or didn’t know, whatever he’d understood about all Eliot felt for him, it didn’t matter now. Quentin was gone.

For a moment, Eliot allowed himself to believe Julia. Believe that despite what he’d said, despite the way he’d hurt Q, despite his rejection, Quentin still knew. He let himself believe that his dismissive words didn’t shatter Quentin’s faith in them.

Quentin had proof of concept, after all. He had to have known the truth. Right?

Eliot took one last drag of the cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray on the ground. He lit another one.

“Did he ever tell you,” Eliot started, “about the time I tried to teach him how to make peach jam?”

“No, but I’m already intrigued,” Julia said, leaning forward as her smile started to come back.

“Oh, it was an _absolute_ disaster—”


End file.
